Love on the Run (15 page)

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Authors: Zuri Day

BOOK: Love on the Run
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26
An hour and a half later, Michael and Shayna sat at a casually chic restaurant, fresh off a quick shopping spree to buy Shayna some duds. She looked right at home in the autumn environment, her burnt orange sweater, multicolored striped turtleneck, black jeans, and low-slung boots presenting an acceptable nod to the East Coast chill. Michael wore a black turtleneck, jeans, and a satisfied smile. Since the shower, they'd engaged in small talk mostly. But now, as Michael watched Shayna's bright eyes take in the decor while sipping her orange juice, he realized that there was still a lot about this vixen that he didn't know. And he wanted to know everything.
“So, Shayna,” he began, after a satisfying sip of java, “when we first met back in LA, our conversation centered mostly around your athletic achievements. Tell me a little bit about you, the person inside those fast running shoes.”
“What would you like to know?”
“I don't know. Whatever else you'd like to tell me, I guess. I remember your telling Dina that you grew up in Inglewood. Do you have siblings?”
“No, it's just me.”
“You and your mother against the world, huh?”
“My grandmother is the woman who raised me. I lived mostly with her because Mom was always gone, either working or partying.”
“It's an interesting relationship you have with your mom, if you don't mind me saying so. I'm trying to envision my mother being married to the sibling of someone I dated. That's a trip.”
“If you ever get a chance to meet her, you'll understand. Mom is young at heart, still a party girl, where I've always been more of an old soul. Perhaps that comes from the time I spent with my grandmother, or it could just be my personality.”
“Or you could get it from your father.”
Shayna shrugged.
“My dad played such a pivotal role in my life,” Michael admitted. “I can't imagine growing up without him. He died when I was twenty and that was still way too soon.”
“I imagine growing up with him was special. But you can't miss what you've never had.”
“Your mother never married? That is, before the man she's with now?”
“No. She always had boyfriends, though. Men were always coming and going.”
“That had to be hard on you.”
“It is what it is.” There was a companionable silence as the two thought about fathers, and the lack thereof. “There were good times, though. I remember once, when I was about thirteen years old. We had an impromptu party in Big Mama's front yard, some of my mom's friends and some kids from the block. We were all dancing to Nelly's “Country Grammar” and Sisqó's “Thong Song.” It was so much fun until . . .”
“Until what?”
Until my mother thought she saw her boyfriend looking at me and abruptly cut the music.
And the fun time was over, just like that. “My mom was just never the overly maternal type. I think when they were passing out that gene, she must have left the room.” They sipped their drinks in silence for a moment, Michael wondering what Shayna hadn't shared with him and Shayna wondering if she'd said too much. “What happened to your dad, if you don't mind me asking?”
Michael sat back in his chair, looked out the window, and fiddled with the coffee mug as he spoke. “On-the-job accident. My dad was a foreman down at the Long Beach shipyards. He worked there for thirty years without incident, never even took a sick day off. Then in a fluke accident, a large cable snapped, hit my dad in the head, in the only spot that could kill him instantly, the doctor would later tell us.” After more than a decade, the memory still brought pain to Michael's face.
Shayna reached across the table. “I'm so sorry.”
“I know, me, too. But like you said, it is what it is.” He looked over at Shayna, realizing that she was the first woman since his last serious relationship more than three years ago where he'd opened up about his family. “Your mother told you that the streets claimed your father. What was it? Drugs? Gangs?”
“I don't know. Mom refuses to talk about it. But whenever I asked about him, that's what she always told me . . . streets got him.”
And there it was again, Michael noticed, that flash of raw vulnerability in Shayna's eyes and with it, an overwhelming urge on his part to keep her safe, the way Sam Morgan had for his family. There was no doubt in Michael's mind that he was the man that he was because of his father; every valuable lesson he'd learned was at his knee. Part of the reason Michael hadn't yet married was because of his father's words:
Stay single until you're done playing the field. Because once you get married, you're playing for keeps.
The waitress brought their hefty brunch order: eggs Benedict and hash browns for Shayna, a three-egg vegetable omelet, waffles, bacon, sausage, and hash browns for Michael. They agreed to split a fruit platter.
Ravenous when they'd ordered, the two now eyed the massive spread before them. “Are we really going to eat all this?” Shayna asked incredulously.
Reaching for his fork, Michael dug into his omelet. “We're going to try.”
“Ha!”
For several moments, the click-clacking of silverware was the only thing heard at the table. After Michael had consumed a good portion of the omelet, a couple sausage patties and strips of bacon, and a third of his potatoes, he sat back, wiping his mouth in the process. “How's your eggs Benedict?”
Shayna nodded, chewing until she swallowed her bite. “Delicious. And if the way you're eating is any indication, yours is, too.”
“I like my food, baby, no doubt. And for a little sistah, you're putting a good amount away yourself.”
“Fast metabolism,” she offered.
“For sure.” Michael waited until the waitress had refreshed his coffee and then continued. “Do your mom and her husband live in Los Angeles?”
“No, Mom bought a home in Henderson, Nevada, two years ago, partly because of the attractive real estate prices and partly because that's where Larsen wanted to incorporate.” It was also where Jarrell planned to begin his political career, gunning for the city council to start. But Shayna saw no need to share this tidbit. She wondered why it was that she even remembered.
“Sounds like the age difference isn't mattering much where their relationship is concerned.”
“Not as much as their relationship matters to me.”
“Jay's brother being your de facto stepfather a problem?”
Shayna saw the twinkle in his eye, knew he was trying to lighten the mood. “You think?” And then, “They are very close, Jarrell and Larsen. I believe in Mom's mind, Jay and I staying together helps secure her and Larsen's bond. Actually, some of the best times I've had with my mom were with the four of us, at least lately. Now that he and I have broken up, the mother-daughter dynamic is an understandably sticky situation.”
“It's got to be hard for her trying to support you while not totally dissing her husband's brother.”
“It would be if she were trying to support me. And maybe she is, in her own way. Maybe she truly believes what she says, that Jarrell and I should get back together. I didn't see it firsthand, but I know my mother endured her share of abusive relationships.” She looked at Michael to know whether he understood what she meant. “Physical abuse,” she added, just to be clear. “Big Mama made me promise to never allow a man to do that to me. I intend to keep that promise. Even with everything Jay did to me, my mother is still trying to help us get back together. When it comes to moving forward with my life, without him in it, I don't have her support.”
Now, it was Michael's turn to reach across the table. “Don't worry about it, Shayna,” he said sincerely. He paused before adding, “You have mine.”
27
Shayna reached the door to her condo, bobbing her head to the sound flowing through her ear buds. “Family Affair” was one of Shayna's all time favorite songs by one of her all time favorite songstresses, Mary J. She hummed the funky hook as she unlocked the door, maneuvering her bulky canvas bag through the doorway with one arm while balancing the purse, take-out food, and drink with the other. It had been another long yet productive day and after spending an equally long and productive night with Michael last night, Shayna was more than ready to eat a delicious meal, take a hot bath, climb into a soft bed, and get a good night's sleep. Setting her food and drink on the counter, she tossed the canvas bag near the hallway that led to the bedrooms before ridding herself of jacket and shoes in quick order.
“‘Don't need no hate. . .'” Shayna sang, as she removed the Chinese dishes she'd ordered from their container, placed a helping of each along with the egg rolls onto a plate and into the microwave, and danced down the hall to change out of her sweats. She put on the same extra-large Lakers T-shirt that Michael had given her to wear last night, shook her hair out of its ponytail, and returned to the kitchen. She'd just set her food on the living room coffee table and reached for the remote when her cell phone rang.
Upon seeing the number, she almost didn't answer it. Lately, whenever she and Beverly had talked, the conversation had not gone the direction she'd hoped.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, Shayna. Girl, what are you doing?”
“Just got home from practice, getting ready to eat. What's up?”
A sigh, and then, “It's Larsen. I think he's seeing somebody.”
“Again?” Shayna stifled a sigh of her own. This wasn't the first time she and her mother had had this conversation. In fact, they'd often traded suspicions as Shayna knew for a fact that Jarrell had been unfaithful more than once. It was another reason why her breaking up with him had come a year or two later than it should have. Better late than never, she'd finally conceded. Both Brittney and Talisha had given Shayna the 411, along with the unsolicited advice to drop his ass like a hot potato while they were still in college. It hadn't happened until four years later. Like her mother, she knew, but didn't want to believe it. And like Shayna, her mother would have to get to that revelation on her own.
“What do you mean, ‘again'? Has Jay told you something? Do you know something about what's going on that I don't?”
“I haven't talked to him since that time you put him on the phone. I've moved on from him, Mom, and his cheating ways is one of the reasons why.” The obvious unspoken words hung in the air. Though her appetite had been impaired by the phone call, she picked up her chopsticks and dug into the kung pao. “I said ‘again' because we had this conversation a few months ago, remember? Right before I broke up with Jarrell for the very same thing!”
“Y'all breaking up is the reason this is happening. Now that Jarrell is on the prowl, he's coming down here almost every weekend so him and Larsen can hit the clubs.”
“He was going down there almost every weekend anyway. I'm surprised he hasn't moved there already.”
“He would have if y'all hadn't broken up. Now he's delayed the move to try and get you back. He's probably doing it on purpose, Shayna, pulling Larsen away from me. Trying to hurt me just to get back at you.”
“Seriously, Mom? Do you have any idea how crazy that sounded?”
“You know how close those brothers are. If you and Jarrell were still together, then he and my husband wouldn't be hanging out.”
“This sounds like a conversation you need to have with Larsen. What Jarrell does or doesn't do is no longer my business.”
“That's just it, Shayna. Everything isn't about you.” Shayna looked at the phone with widened eyes and raised brows.
No. She. Didn't.
“This is about my future, too. Now I told you, girl, every relationship has its ups and downs. You and Jarrell were together for almost ten years. There shouldn't be anything too hard for y'all to work out.”
“You also told me”—
and showed me
—“that men were like buses. That if one left, another one would be along in about fifteen minutes.” The more Shayna listened, her mother sounded less ridiculous and more insecure. As often happened when her mother fretted over a man, the conversation with Big Mama came to mind.
Something happened that made her shut off her feelings. That's something she'll have to tell you.
Shayna wondered about the experience that had made her mother promiscuous in her youth and feel incomplete without a man. She believed it when Big Mama said Beverly loved her, but Shayna honestly didn't feel she was liked all the time. Even Beverly's going after Larsen had felt like a type of competition, like by dating Jarrell's brother Beverly proved that she could have anything that Shayna could.
What mother does that? What is that about?
And what was it about Shayna and her need for her mother's love that even now she was feeling herself weakening, planning to give in to her mother's wishes and spend Thanksgiving with the Powells. Beverly had demanded the very thing that Shayna had so often needed but didn't get: her support. Then someone else's voice rang inside her head.
You have mine.
The conversation that had continued once Michael and Shayna left the restaurant that late morning began to play in her ear. He'd been right when he said that her mother was an adult and as such, not her responsibility. Shayna's appetite increased. Her thoughts had blocked out what Beverly was saying, but when she tuned back in her mother prattled on. It had been this way since she could remember—Beverly sharing with Shayna about her man woes. She picked up and bit into her vegetable roll with newfound gusto.
“. . . these young witches don't know a thing about boundaries. The fact that he's married? They couldn't care less. His phone rings all times of day and night and as much as his limo company is expanding, everybody isn't needing a ride at four a.m.!”
Shayna placed her sticks down on the plate. As much as she wanted to shake some sense into her and call it a day, she could empathize with her mother's position. Six months ago, Shayna had been the one holding on to something that was way past its expiration date. Her mother had invested a lot in Larsen, had chased and chased him until he caught her. Like Jarrell, Larsen did have good qualities. He could be charming, attentive, and was the life of the party wherever he went. Women flocked to him, yes, but he was a magnet for almost any crowd. Add to that the fact that regular workouts kept his five-foot-ten-inch stocky frame in excellent shape, and regular trips to the barber kept his close-cropped hair gleaming and his goatee maintained, and one could see why Larsen presented a package that looked worth holding on to.
“Looks like you've got a situation, Mom,” Shayna said at last. “What are you going to do about it?”
Beverly's demeanor changed as a chuckle replaced the frustration in her voice. “Girl, you don't even want to know.”
“Oh, Lord. What are you thinking?”
“I was thinking about doing an Evelyn.”
“A who?”
“Evelyn. That chick on
Basketball Wives
who married ‘Spanish eighty-five.' Remember all the hoopla she caused when she talked about being open to his seeing other women as long as she knew about them?”
“No, Mom. You are
not
going there.”
“When I think of the alternatives, I can understand her reasoning. It's better to know what's going on rather than have them sneak around. I met Larsen today for lunch down on the Strip. Saw this chick who looks younger than you are, giving him the flirty eye while looking at me like I was wearing shit for makeup. I asked Larsen about her and he swore she was just some chick he'd met at a club while picking up a client.”
“Picking her up, more likely,” Shayna muttered before she could stop herself.
“Exactly. Anyway, we finished our lunch and left the building. You know I lit into his ass as soon as we got into the car. I yelled and cried, he lied and denied, and now he's gone God knows where. That's what got me thinking. Who do I think I am to demand that he stay faithful when none of these other mother-brothers are keeping their shit on lock?”
“His wife, that's who.”
“Living in la-la land is what got you single,” Beverly retorted. “I'm not getting any younger, already competing with witches half my age, and am not even trying to be alone in this bitch, joining the Divorced Wives or Over Forty Club or hanging with a boyfriend called Slot Machine or Blackjack on a Saturday night! Every woman tries to front like her man is faithful, but bottom line is, if he's got one swinging, then he's probably flinging, whether they know it or not and whether they like it or not. Me? I'd rather know. Make ours an open marriage. Hell, I might even see me a cutie I want. This arrangement can end up working both ways!”
“Then why be married, Mom?” Shayna softly asked.
Instead of answering that question, Beverly asked one of her own. “You're still coming down for Thanksgiving, right? Because as pissed as I am, I've got a reason to want to keep Larsen around. But I want to share that in person.”
Especially after this conversation, spending the holidays with her family was the last place Shayna wanted to be. But of all the holidays, Thanksgiving was one to be spent with family, such as it was. Maybe this year would be different. Maybe Beverly and Jarrell would see that she had moved on, that she was doing well and that a woman could actually be single and happy. Or working on it anyway. Maybe if Beverly saw what supporting someone looked like, then she would support Shayna the next time the need arose. “Yeah, Mom. I'll be there.”
“Alone, right? You know that Jarrell won't want to see you with anybody.”
“I can't make that promise, Mom. Like you, I don't want to be alone, and end up with a man named Blackjack.”
They laughed and thankfully the conversation turned a bit lighter after that. Shayna shared highlights from her latest meet and Beverly chatted about plans to head to New York for a shopping spree. After the call ended, Shayna reheated her food, finished it quickly, took a hasty hot shower instead of the long bath she'd planned, and crawled between the sheets. Sleep eluded her, however, as she thought about the discussion she and Beverly had had.
Every woman tries to front like their man is faithful, but bottom line is, if he's got one swinging, then he's probably flinging. . . .
Shayna didn't believe this. She knew good men, men whom she believed faithful: her coach, John, and Kim's husband, Patrick, to name just two. But it made her wonder about another man. She thought back to the day after the attack, before she'd left the bedroom but heard various ring tones going off, several times, when Michael's phone rang off the hook. Was that all about business? Shayna seriously doubted it. Brothah like him could have a bevy of chicks and be rolling with a couple of prepaids and a Cricket or two just to keep the roster straight. It had been almost a week since Cape Cod and she and Michael had been together almost every night. They hadn't put a label on what was happening between them, so the conversation of who he was or wasn't seeing had never come up.
But given the info her mom had put on Shayna's mind . . . it was about to.

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